Driving You Starkers
by xxRomanceGirlxx
Summary: Stuck a ghost haunting Wolfram & Hart, Spike comes up with a twisted game ... Just how far did Spike take it when he swore to drive Angel completely starkers? Starts from "Just Rewards".
1. Just Rewards

**Driving You Starkers**

 **Pairings:** Spuffy(ish), Bangel(ish)

 **Timeline:** Missing scenes of Angel and Spike in Season 5 from _**"Just Rewards"**_ to _**"Destiny"**_ when Spike was still a ghost.

 **Disclaimer:** **Don't own Angel. This is just me taking it upon myself to share the lost Spangel scenes that we all know happened lol.**

 **A/N:** Because I love Spangel and Spike and Spuffel and this was necessary. ;)

 _ **Open to any OCCness warnings/thoughts!**_

* * *

 _Just Rewards_

Angel drove rapidly down the highway, motivated with purpose. In hero-mode. All his thoughts on taking down Hainsley and putting an end to his necromancy. Enforcing _his_ way of doing things. Changing Wolfram & Hart. Making a difference.

"A whole bleeding car lot, filled with all the sports car you fancy. The _great_ hero. Gets in the belly in the beast, so long as the beast comes with gifts. Nothing but the best and grandest to bag _you_. Might crack another frown line."

 _Also_ trying to block out his annoying, _very_ annoying company.

"And here _you_ are. Riding in alone in a Camero and a hundred-dollar suit even though you got the whole of _Evil Inc_. at your back. Trying to prove to yourself you're any different from the rest of them."

It inched close to a nerve. " _Alone_ was the idea." Angel said through gritted teeth.

"And miss the biggest joke of all?" Spike scoffed. " _'Oh!_ _Angel_! Riding in to dish out justice and strike fear in the baddies with his 'CEO of all evilness' holier-than-thou speech talk. " He mocked. "God, that's convincing."

Even closer to a nerve. "Not as convincing as a dead vampire with nothing better than do." The older vampire sniped, annoyance rising.

Spike snorted. "Fair's fair, mate. Your fault this happened. This is to be my hell, I'm gonna bloody right make it yours."

A nerve struck. Desperate anger and mental distress assaulted Angel, imagining being haunted by the Spike for all eternity, but he only stared stonily ahead.

"Wondering which of the ways I'm gonna go about that. So many buttons under that blank block of yours. Not as tough as you look ..." The bleached blonde trailed off, scrutinizing him through narrowed eyes. "Maybe I should just watch, let you do it for me. Already a bloody parody of yourself."

 _Please._ Angel seethed internally, but still kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead, refusing to acknowledge Spike. Spike wasn't alive. Spike wasn't even _here_. He was just a bunch of frequencies. _Nothing_.

"No ... No, I could do better. Something ... something _real_ good. Something that will drive you _completely_ out of your gourd ..." Spike mused with feeling, thinking.

Angel resolutely ignored him. _Don't give him a reaction._ That's what Spike wanted. He wasn't even worth that. He had more important things to worry about than—

"I remember this one time with Buffy ... well, time _s_ ... She came down to my crypt. And oh, what a night that was. Among other nights."

Angel went rigid. Hand turning white-knuckled on the sterling wheel.

"But _that_ night ... Shagged me good, she did. Couldn't form a single thought for two hours. Couldn't move for bloody _four_." Spike recounted, feeling in his voice.

Savage, unadulterated rage brewed in the vampire. He didn't even notice as the sterling wheel under his grip began to dent.

"There's just nothing like it, y'know?" Wistfulness entered Spike's voice. "The things she would do ... the way she moves, to feel her, feel her beneath, the sounds she would make when she ... heh." He smirked at him smugly.

Jealousy, hot and pulsing, spiked in Angel to a very dangerous level. Disgusting images assaulted him and he clenched his teeth, seeing nothing but red.

"A bloody honor, that was. Best I ever had. Wouldn't trade it for the world." Spike carried on, casual. "Glad I got so lucky. Didn't up like some other poor bastard who—"

A nerve exploded. Angel jerked the sterling wheel in fury, a part of it crushing under his hand as he crossed into the wrong lane. Cars honked and shouts sounded and he almost went over the sidewalk, crashing straight into a group of pedestrians. He quickly turned the wheel in a flurry and barely righted himself again.

"Hey! Bloody hell!" Spike said in alarm. "Watch it. Could've hit the granny holding the bags. Or the soccer mom. Girl scout, perhaps." He looked at him flatly. "That what you do now? Wolfram & Hart's poster boy?"

Seeing his innocent reaction only made an incensed Angel angrier. "One more _word_..." He said dangerously.

"You'll what? Turn this car around?" Spike snorted. "Thought we're supposed to be on a hero trip. Checking the bad necromancer. Showing him the _big_ man's got the power." He half-stated, half-sneered.

Rage boiled in his blood, made worse with the fact he was right. Giving the darkest of glares on Spike, the souled vampire turned back to the now slightly crushed wheel.

" ... There was another time with Buffy." Spike started up again after a couple moments, nonchalant. "Wasn't the crypt this time. To be fair I don't quite remember where, it was all very..."

Angel gritted his teeth in jealous fury, helpless to do anything but listen as Spike proceeded into another long, _agonizingly_ long, graphic story.

He'd been to Hell.

This was worse.

 _ **####**_

Angel was back into his penthouse, situating himself comfortably under the covers as he sighed blearily. He felt exhausted, drained by more than the fight of Hainsley. The stress of Spike haunting and tormenting him every moment was too much. He was already dealing with the weight of losing Connor, and now the weight of the Wolfram & Hart. He felt every one of his two hundred fifty years. He'd give anything just to ...

"Bloody brilliant, the digs they gave you. Came with a view and all that gaudy flair you like. Fits like a bloody glove. A little _too_ well, one might say."

 _No, no, no! Not again!_ Deja vu in the most infuriating way seized Angel. " _Spike_. What did I say before about here being _off-limits_?" He hissed.

"Don't care what you say. Never did." He replied flatly, walking over. "Always had it all big and lavish, didn't you? That old Crawford mansion in Sunnydale ... that villa back in Transylvania ... The walking vampire cliché."

"Cliché? You lived in a _crypt_!" Angel said in outrage.

"Never seemed to bother Buffy all too much." Spike answered easily. "I'd wager she had a lot more fun nights there than she did in yours." He gave a meaningful look.

The souled vampire seethed, disgust rising in his chest. "Get _out_ of here, Spike." He growled.

"Don't be that way. Thought we got a good thing going, helping you the way I did with Hainsley. Figured you could use a little ghost vampire-to-vampire company." At Angel's glare, the bleached blonde gave a nonchalant shrug. "Alright, I was bored. Gotta find something to do with my afterlife, don't I?"

"Figure it out. Just don't use mine." Why wasn't he leaving already?

Spike snorted. "Only thing I _can_ do, mate. Still of the not at rest thing thanks to you and yours." He muttered. "Could've just taken _you_ over, if I wanted. Taken out of this fix. All problems would end."

"That a regret, Spike?"

"Bloody right it is. Just had to turn over that new leaf. Pity." He replied, tone flat. After a moment, he smirked a little. "Not _all_ bad though, is it? There's still that 'haunting-you-till-you-go-insane' thing. Annoying you 'till you pop? Might not need no other purpose than that."

Angel groaned and laid back down. "That's the _only_ reason you existed since the day Dru brought you home, Spike." He muttered. He turned his back on him, squeezing his eyes shut. Desperately hoping if he ignored him, he would go away.

"Must be why I'm so good at it, then." He deadpanned. Silence slashed through the room. " ... Y'know, Buffy and I, beds they were never really our thing. Up against walls, on the floors, on tables sure, but ... Best for the bed though really. I remember the one time we—"

Just as Angel had started to entertain the idea Spike had finally left and let him get some sleep, every word came with a torturous images and his hopes weren't just dashed. They were consumed in fire. " _Spike_ ..." He said his name like a death wish, low and menacing.

"Don't like your bedtime story?" Spike said innocently.

Angel fought to stay in control, but the pictures in his head were determined on infuriating him. Buffy and Spike doing ... Spike touching _her_ , seeing ... He couldn't ... _Why?!_ The vampire barely bit back a snarl of jealous rage.

"Haven't even gotten to the best part yet." He could hear the smug look on his face. "See, the bed—"

Something snapped then and the souled vampire was out of the bed and on his feet, prowling over to Spike. "Talk about her that way one more time ..." He began, voice filled with quiet fury.

"You'll what?" Spike stared back boldly, unafraid by the Angelus-esque look in his eye. "You can't do anything to me. And that's the best part, innit it? I could tell you _every single detail_ of the Buffy and Spike sexcapades. Drive you bug-eating mad. Yeah, and you wouldn't be able to do a ruddy thing." His glee grew with every word and he smirked triumphantly. "My hell, your hell, Angel. Think I'm just gonna roll over in this _Ghost of Vampires Past_ , well then you are one _sorry_ —"

There was whooshing sound and Spike disappeared. Angel still glared at the spot he had been at it, shaking a little with rage, frustration and distress palpable.

He went to lay back down, filled with rage and jealousy and disgust and everything in between. Angel couldn't even be relieved that Spike was finally gone. He'd back. He'd _always_ be back. Annoying him the way he always had ... and now with the worst ammo.

He didn't sleep well that night, images of Buffy and Spike tangled up in each other as they kissed and moved together. He knew that nightmare wouldn't be the last.

* * *

 **A/N:** **... Come on. You can't say Spike _didn't_ play this 'game' with Angel, could you? LOL. Luckily for us (and unfortunately for Angel), I'm gonna post more _Angel_ "behind-the-scenes" one-shot chapters of Spike on his cruel and hilarious game with all the Spangel banter and precarious Angel sanity you can ask for. I hope this first one was funny! :D**


	2. Devil In Details

_Devil In Details_

It was another week in Wolfram & Hart. Only a few days since taking down Hainsley. A little over a month since deal in taking Wolfram & Hart started. It all felt longer. So _very_ long. Being CEO of Wolfram & Hart was even harder than he imagined it to be. Even being in charge he could never truly tell who was following his orders or going behind his back. Or who wanted his head on a spike. Angel's gut instinct said everyone.

Spike was still here. Every single day, _here_. Everywhere he went, it seemed the dead vampire was right over his shoulder. The only moment of 'peace' he got was his continuing vanishing acts and then he was just left with the new usual. Spike's blink outs were probably the closest thing to the highlights of his days. But then he was back. _Always_ back.

Safe to say he'd had better days.

"I thought I said the Fielderson contract was terminated." Angel said in a curt, strained voice.

A thirty-some, dark-haired lawyer named Simon Typs was in front of him. Human (unfortunately). He faced him calmly under his glower. "Yes, I know. We're all aware."

"Mind telling me why one of my teams found a secret underground railway tracked directly to the Fielderson orphanage? 'Cause, y'know, I found that a little strange."

"Mr. Angel ... " Simon wavered momentarily at the vampire's glare, then cleared his throat quickly and tried again. "Sir—"

 _"Sir!"_ Spike's mocking scoff interrupted the lawyer. The ghost vampire was a little ways away, having wandering around the room mid-conversation. "Do whatever you have to make him feel _'strong'_ , don't you?"

"—we're in the process of adjustments. There's negotiations—"

" _Negotiations?"_ Angel said in outrage. "It's a contact selling orphans to demons to _eat_ like lamb chops!"

"And now we're working on turning it into a safe, clean, no-kill, child demon trafficking system." Eve cut in casually. She was sitting beside him on his desk with arms crossed, wearing a short orange dress. At the look of disgust Angel shot her, she clarified. "Oh, all the money made off it goes to charity."

"Oh, _'it's for charity'_?" Spike began mockingly. He shook his head. " _Those_ three magic words. Turns even the most slimy, corporate bastards into saints, don't they? Keeps the world 'go round." He stated, bitingly cynical.

"We're also throwing in a couple nice safety videos." Mr. Typs threw in a bit proudly.

Spike nodded. "Brilliant."

"No! No more trafficking. It's all off." Angel stated very firmly, annoyance rising. "Contract's null and void. You're taking every single kid back and all that money goes to straight to the orphanage. Anyone who even _tries_ to set foot back in that railway deals with me personally."

"But the contract—" Dr. Types protested.

" _Null._ And _void_." The vampire said in a final tone, threat in his voice.

"Uh, Angel ... Think about what they're doing here." Gunn, standing on his right, spoke up. "The Fielderson contract's ... kind of a big deal in the demon circles. Two hundred years old, at least."

"And sealed with blood. Extra permanent." Eve chipped in, nodding.

Gunn made a grave, confirming look. "Point is, it's big, it's old and not to mention a major source of funding. Ain't something you can just null and void. There's details. We gotta look at his a little more delicately ..." His friend told him carefully.

His temper was fraying again. Angel was so tired of hearing about contracts and _details_ and just being so constricted ... did everything have to be so complicated? "It's a contract! It's paper!" He snapped. He paused to calm himself and sighed, rubbing his face. "Send in the contract back in, look it over. Try to find a clause or-or whatever your new law brain can turn around for us. But right now no one takes one more kid from that Fielderson place until that's all sorted." He punctuated the last words with a look towards Eve and Simon.

"So does that mean you're open to negotiation?" Mr. Simon Types asked in a calm, polite voice.

 _I don't negotiate._ The words were just on the tip of his tongue. Instead he glowered. " _No promises."_ He said lowly, petulant and threatening all at once.

Gunn and Dr. Types went to get to work, leaving him with Eve ... and Spike.

"You're a real, smooth business man, aren't cha, Angel?" Eve said, dry and flippant as she still sitting on his desk.

"Not with shady, evil lawyers." Angel glared at her.

"Ouch." Eve replied, making a look of mock hurt. She smirked. "Y'know, you should really be more choosey with your words considering you're basically one of us now ..." She jumped down off the desk, frowning. "Even bigger bulletin: You're the _Head Honcho_."

She stretched out the last words with meaning and her eyes sparkled with some kind of secret. Angel watched her through narrowed eyes. Wondering not for the first time if he really was the boss of here. Wondering what strings they were trying to pull on him. They were planning something. They always have been ... and she knew it.

Eve smiled at him, a mix between playfulness and devilishness. "I'll leave you boys alone." She stated impishly, walking away.

" ... You can't trust that one." Spike said once she was gone, matter-of-fact.

"You can't trust any of them." Angel answered solemnly.

"Well, in light of their fabulous taste in murdery trinkets and my slight case of ghostiness ... _your_ fault, by the way." Spike said, the last part more out of habit than bite.

It annoyed the older vampire anyway. "Why are you still here, Spike? Don't you have a date with nothingness?"

Spike startled. "Wuh? What? How do the bloody hell do you ...?!" The dead vampire's went from confused, nervous, and outraged over the course of a few seconds. Then he paused, read Angel's face, frowned, and pulled back. "I-I mean ... I bet _you'd_ like me to." He said awkwardly, not sporting his usual attitude.

"Seeing you just disappear like you don't exist? Makes my day."

Spike frowned, a curious look crossing his face, before it was gone and it was bluster at full force. "Not as much as the big ape in the special chair makes mine. Has taken out the Big Bads, bloody well has _been_ the Big Bad, beaten by a sodding contact." He scorned. "If I thought you were pathetic before—"

"There's a _process_." Angel interrupted, impatient. "I mean ... they're all _evil_. I can't just change everything and take over overnight. There's ... _details_. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"And you think _you_ know details, Mr. 'Look at the Pretty Big Picture'?" Spike responded, unimpressed. "It's rot, Angel. All of this. So busy trying muzzle the big dogs, you aren't even seeing the leash coming."

"They won't leash me."

"Right. 'Course. Far be it for me to uncover a century's worth of self-righteousness and delusion in that noggin. Might actually have to be honest with yourself, and oh, we all know how you'd handle that."

Triggered, Angel stood angrily from his desk. "And what do you know about anything _honest_?" He retorted.

"Aha! See? Self-righteous!" Spike said, pointing at him.

"You think you did everything for the right reasons? Getting a soul, closing the hellmouth ..." The older vampire began disdainfully, voice thick with disgust. "You think you're a hero? A _champion_?" He was in his face now, completely boiling over.

The younger vampire faced him unflinchingly. "Buffy seemed to think I was."

"She never had good instincts." Angel said coldly.

Spike scoffed. "You would know, I suppose." He replied pointedly. He scoffed again, more scornfully. "Did I have the right reasons? Yeah. Yeah, you're damn right I did. Funny how you could ask _me_ that, playing chess with evil as you are. Don't have to bloody explain myself to—"

"It's always a chess game, Spike. Good versus evil, justice and torment ... It's just a matter of which side gets the checkmate."

The bleached blonde stared at him a second, eyes narrowed slightly. " ... Funny. I remember you saying that to me once before. Never did quite get it." He remarked, thoughtful.

"Well, you always were a slow learner." Angel commented off-handedly, walking past him to leave.

" ... Think I finally figured something out." Spike stated after a few moments, making Angel stop at the door. "So I come in, get me a soul, crash your exclusive little club. Then I get toasted. Must've been the best news you heard. But now I'm back—more or less—and you don't know what you means. And that's what's _really_ been sticking it to this whole time. _You_ don't know what it means."

"There a point to this, Spike?"

"Or maybe you're scared it _does_ mean something." The bleached blonde carried on, a bit of glee in his voice as he approached him. " That _maybe_ you're not the Powers only special monkey. _Maybe_ they aren't done with me. 'Greater purpose', y'know."

"Greater purpose?" Angel snorted. "Spike, you wouldn't even know what to do with one."

The younger vampire smirked a little, unfazed. "Gets you, huh? The chance I'm gonna make a comeback. Steal your thunder. Take all your toys away ..." Spike carried on mockingly, a haughty look on his face. He paused and cocked his head meaningfully. " ... Like Buffy."

Angered at once, Angel whirled on him. "Buffy's not my _toy!_ " He snapped.

"What _I've_ been telling you ..." Spike said pointedly.

Anger turned to rage. "What's that supposed to mean?" He challenged, in his face again as his fists clenched at his side. If had been corporeal then, he would've beaten Spike to a bloody pulp.

"What it sounds like." The bleached blonde commented, eying him flatly.

"This isn't about _Buffy_." Angel hissed.

"It's about a lot of things, I wager. But to pick one of the many sore spots ..." The younger vampire stared at him meaningfully. "I got a soul on my own. For _her_. Became a better man. For _her._ "

"You didn't do it for her. You did it for _you_. So Buffy could give you a chance." Angel responded lowly. _And it worked._ Resentment burned inside the vampire, strengthening his anger. Spike thought if he would become more like him, then Buffy would ... His stomach churned with disgust and he was sick inside.

"That what you tell yourself? Fine. At least I could still chose. _You_ couldn't. No. No, you're King Evil. Tortures her, tortures her friends, and the whole bloody world she loves so much when the soul goes pop. And that's the _real_ rub for you, isn't it? _You_ couldn't do it." Spike said, certainty in his voice. "Hmm. Wonder what that means." He gave a pointed look.

The words played him like a fiddle. Guilt, anger, and shame washed over Angel all at once, overwhelming him. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Not sure Buffy would still agree ..." He remarked drolly.

His insecurity spiked and he faltered a bit. _Did she ever ...?_ He masked it at once. "That's _different._ I'm not Angelus. Buffy knows that."

"Does she?" Spike sounded skeptical. He shrugged. "Might not have mattered to her anyway, y'know, as far as pros and cons go. Can't give her _much_ , soul or no soul. Moved on to better things." He drawled out the last sentence and stared at him meaningfully.

Insecurity ran rampant in Angel now, distressing him. He hated how easily Spike got to him. He just knew him too well.

"You can't give _anyone_ anything, Spike. You're dead." His voice was like ice and his glare just as cold as Angel stared him down before he purposely shoved into him, feeling him harmlessly phase through his shoulder as he stormed out his office.

It was hard for Angel to say what was going to drive him insane first: Wolfram & Hart ... or Spike.

 _ **####**_

Gunn and his diversion were in the contract room for hours with the Fielderson contract, giving it all full-scale analysis. Wesley and Fred came to him with their own cases in the meantime. He had no idea where Spike was now, but he had done his job. The storm brewing in Angel only became more angry and volatile as the day went on, the sting of his last remarks festering inside until it was all he had to not completely lose it. He was even more testy on the cases, even more short with the workers. Spike was just making this Wolfram & Hart so damn _harder_.

Even with his tenuous control, Angel endured long-sufferingly. He got back with Gunn who hadn't managed to find any clauses, but still found working room for them. They arranged an meeting with the contractor that they sit down and talk "negotiations". He didn't want to negotiate. Didn't really want a meeting. But he agreed. He had to.

So Angel sat at his desk again, waiting for his 3'o clock and filing out paperwork. Alone. Just waiting.

"Back at it again with the desk work, eh?"

Or _was_ alone.

The storm cloud above Angel's head turned almost black. "I'm about to have a meeting, Spike."

"Oh. Well, in that case ..." Spike cleared his throat self-importantly and straightened. "I'll tell you about Buffy and me's first time. Brought the house down." Meaning laced his voice and he gave a pointed look.

The other vampire froze, pen still to the paper. Jealousy followed by dismay followed by horror gripped Angel. _Again. No, not again. "Not. Now. Spike."_ He punctuated every word through gritted teeth, harsh and desperate.

"So I have permission to tell you later, then?" Spike couldn't help but mock.

"Not _ever_!" Angel snarled.

"Sorry, Gramps." The bleached blonde eyed him flatly a moment, and then smirk was back. "And when I say brought the house down ... that is as in literally. Didn't even notice. I'm sure you understand. Yeah ... I remember. Old, abandoned house. Floor breaking apart, walls closing in as we ..."

The older vampire's scowl turned darker and darker, seeing it unfold in his head. Suddenly he heard a sound and realized he had snapped the pen in half, spraying ink over his paperwork. Annoyance at the inconvenience flashed over him and let out a tight breath. "... You're exaggerating." Angel stated tersely, knowing better.

Spike stared at him a moment before he suddenly burst out laughing. "You bloody _wish_ I was!"

Angel glared at him. Meeting his smug and highly amused look aroused his jealous rage again, his mind turning with the possibility ... _no._ That didn't happen. Not _Buffy_. Not _with_ Buffy. Spike was baiting him, that's all. _He's lying._ Angel thought ferociously, refusing to believe.

"Too much for you?" Spike continued haughtily, prowling over behind his desk. "I know. Truth hurts." He stated in mock sympathy, leaning over his shoulder. "Oh, it was a thing. A hot, wild night of primal passion. Didn't bloody well know what hit me, the way she jumped these bones. _Again_ and _again_ and _again_ ..." He drawled out the last words, voice sounding close to his ear.

 _Stop._ Angel thought desperately, barely holding on to sanity. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to know. He didn't want these pictures in his head. He just wanted to beg him, 'please stop'. But he wasn't going to stop. Not Spike. Even worse. _He_ couldn't make him stop.

 _I'm in hell. This is hell. I'm in it._ Angel thought with sinking certainty, beyond distress. Beyond rage even.

"Yeah. It was a night I'll never forgot. A night _she'll_ never forgot. The way she screamed ... Could barely even move by the time I was through with her."

Spike was treading very dangerous territory now and he knew it, but he _had_ to keep egging him on ... push Angel just that _last_ bit further.

"Best she's _ever_ had."

Angel was successfully pushed over the edge. _I'm gonna_ _ **kill**_ _him. I'm gonna actually,_ _ **really**_ _..._ The depths of his rage were now beyond description. Eyes smoldering with deadly jealousy. Images of Buffy and Spike filled his head, the urge to kill rising. But he _couldn't_ kill Spike. He couldn't even hit him. He couldn't beat him up or knock out or do anything that would shut him up because if had to hear one more _word_ —

"Your 3'o clock is here. " Gunn's voice floated to him and his friend entered the room, a contract in his hand. A stout, big-headed, flame-red demon with small, slightly curled horns was with him. "Angel, I'd like you to meet ..."

"Gibbs Wilson." The demon introduced, a cordial smile on his face as he extended his handshake.

Angel didn't take it. He just stared at him from his desk, seeing but not really seeing him.

Gibbs awkwardly retracted his hand and nodded coolly. "I've heard you've taken issue with our contract ..." He began, pulling some papers of out of his briefcase. "I have a few terms to discuss. Hopefully after we can come to a healthy understanding—"

Angel was there when Gibbs turned him to face him, tossing off the lamp shade and stabbing him with his desk lamp. Gibbs gasped, amber eyes wide, and the vampire stabbed him again, this time in the heart, enjoying it a little much as he clenched his teeth, twisting for good measure.

"Oh, look. Guess the contact's off now, huh?" Angel said flippantly, ripping out the lamp and throwing it over his shoulder as walked past.

Gunn stared, appalled, at the demon dead on the floor. Spike was laughing under his breath.

"You just killed the _Fielderson_ contract holder!" Gunn declared, glancing after him with alarm.

"Call it impossibility of performance." Angel deadpanned without looking back, walking out his office.

Gunn stared after him in disbelief, then looked to the amused Spike with an glare.

Noticing, the vampire sobered. "What? _What_?"

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, this humor one-shot took a dip into more serious side of Spangel**— **I _am_ trying to make it seem like these are scenes that could've happened on the show, after all**— **and I actually ended up feeling bad for Angel over the some of the things Spike said. The Spangel relationship is so complex. It was a very important though for me to still keep up the humor, and I hope I still did that! :)**

 **More to come ... ;)**


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